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Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Thankful for the fog

  Do you ever have one of those days where you just don't know how you feel? Honestly, the past few days if people have asked me how I am doing, I haven't had a clue how to respond. I want to say, "Great! How are you?!" But that's a lie. I think, "I should tell them how I'm really doing, not great. Not excited. All I want to do is lay in bed and watch sad movies."  I want to be honest... waah wahhhh Debbie Downer.  But the truth is, I have no idea.  Apparently there are these things called hormones, and I hear they've got a strong hold on me. I can go from happy and fine to upset and angry and sad and anything else at the drop of a hat. One word in conversation sends my brain from candycanes and snowflakes to wanting to put on my comfy pants and lay back on the couch while giving everyone the finger.  Happy news shared by others just reminds me of the happy news we were planning on sharing yesterday.
You see, the plan was to make a really cute pregnancy announcement and stuff it in christmas cards that all of D's family would open at Christmas together and they would all be excited. Instead they each got nothing.  I guess I could have still sent them all cards, but I didn't.

I have a lot of stories like that recently. "We could have done this, but we didn't." "I thought about doing that, but I didn't." I'm really good at telling stories.

I just feel like I'm walking through a thick fog. It's not sunny, it's not rainy, it's not pretty, it's not ugly. It's just blah.  I keep thinking, "All I need is a good cry, that'll help." But it's like I've run out of tears and not been able to rebuild my supply.  I guess this is one of those in-between stages where progress is being made? Yeah?  Anywho, I think I'll go over some more things for which I am thankful, since I can't come up with anything else uplifting to write...

At first, I was really upset with my (former) doctor because he did an u/s at 5.5 weeks. YOU CAN'T SEE ANYTHING at 5.5 weeks. Just a couple of bubbles. At this time, he saw the 2 sacs, 1 with 1 and 1 with 2.  I was furious because of the unnecessary stress this potentially put on the two of us. Most Drs won't U/S until at least 7 weeks, but he just "likes to".  And told me over and over that it could end up just being 1 or 2 by week 7-8, and I was mad because I could have been perfectly NOT KNOWING that I potentially lost a baby. Not an embryo. Not a yolk sac, I'm sorry if you disagree, but It's a baby. However, looking back, I still am furious at him for his lack of compassion and understanding, but I am incredibly thankful now that I knew each of them. Yes, I had a few weeks of straight up FREAKING OUT about "how are we going to afford three babies? How will we feed them?! How will we cart them around?! We're going to have to BUY A VAN! How will they fit in our house?! What will we do with the dogs?" But more than that, I had a few weeks of knowing three different babies were there. I was able to lay around and talk to them (even though their ears were still developing) and pray for them each individually.  I think it might have been easier to think that I just lost 1 (right? Surely? No? Who knows), but I am glad to have known them all individually.

I'm thankful for people who don't know what to say.  Some people have provided comic relief by saying such outlandish and inappropriate things that the only thing I could do was store them in my bank and laugh to keep from crying (or assaulting them...?) and others have just been honest and told me they have no idea what to say. That's fine. There is nothing to say. Nothing makes it better or takes it away. However, I think my favorite so far is that they just obviously weren't ready for such awesome parents. Because let me tell you, that is the truth. Awesome parents we shall be.  Clueless and lost and sleep deprived and crazy out of our minds in love with the baby(ies) we are meant to have.

I'm thankful for this foggy funkiness that's going on. The pain is no longer so sharp and fresh. It has turned into a dull nagging pain I know "it gets better" and all, and I guess I assumed that I would be sad one day and perfectly fine the next. Apparently I thought I was tougher than this, that I could handle this and it wouldn't affect me as much as it appears to have affected other people I have seen go through this.   Y'all, I was wrong. But I know that it gets better and I think sometimes it's ok to be foggy.

And you know what I think about fog?  Yes, fog can be dangerous. No one wants to drive in fog, people don't want to get stuck out in it, all that. But when I think about fog, I think about spring/fall morning fog.  You wake up, it's foggy, it's nasty, you can't see the other side, but then it slowly lifts.  It goes from thick muck nasty fog to a light, fluffy fog, and eventually the sun comes in and burns it all up. Some of the prettiest days I can remember have started out super crazy foggy.  All you can do on those days is sit and wait for the sun to come and the fog to lift.

That's what I'll be doing.


Well, that and packing up all the Christmas stuff and vacuuming the pine needles and sorting through presents/putting them away and putting away everything christmassy... because I'm off today and I am tired of the mess in this house.

And then I'm going to take a nap.

♥ Em

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Some things

I don't really know what to say today.
Most people don't have a clue what's going on, and that's ok. You'll get it by the end of this post.
Yesterday was a really hard, sad, terrible day.  I know that a lot of people were upset about the shooting in CT and that was a terrible display of mental illness and the evils in our world.
I heard about this news while sitting in pre-admissions testing at the hospital.  It wasn't a scheduled procedure, nor was it any type of procedure I had ever planned on having.

The last 6 weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions and the past 36-48 hours have been the hardest seconds, minutes, and hours of my life. I don't have words to express the 1093872 thoughts and feelings that I have been through, but what I can say is that I am thankful for the people who have been involved.

On Monday, 11/19 we found out that I was pregnant.

On Tuesday, 11/27 we went from thinking I was just pregnant to thinking I may be pregnant with twins... and then potentially 3. The ultrasound tech found 2 sacks, 1 with 2 poles and the other with just 1. "Spontaneous triplets are extremely uncommon and very high risk; One or two of them might just disappear" is what the doctor said... Over and over and over. "Nature will take care of itself. Your body probably won't keep them all."  Thanks, doc. Comforting and compassionate.

On Thursday, 12/6, we went for another ultrasound. This time the tech only found 2 sacks with 1 in each. Baby A was bigger than Baby B and that was "ok" but possibly meant that B had stopped developing.  The U/S tech said, "Well, I can't find C, and it looks like A is taking over. You will probably only have 1 baby." She then laughed like Count Chocula and I almost punched her. Come to think of it, I should have. It would have been warranted. That was the least compassionate thing I had heard that day. (So far) She then found a heartbeat on both, but the only one that was notable was Baby A's. So they didn't report Baby B's. We went to see the Dr. and he said, "It looks like what I expected. Your situation is kind of goofy (Technical term. Thanks) and strange. I think you'll probably just end up having the second baby disappear and have this one develop. But we'll see. Nature takes care of itself and has a way of making sure what needs to happen will happen."

On Thursday, 12/13, we went back for another ultrasound. I woke up that morning feeling empty and full of dread. I just thought I was because I had so much work to get done and was so anxious for my appt. I asked for a different ultrasound tech as I might assault the one from last week. I was given a super sweet, super soft spoken and gentle lady. She was very nice and didn't say much, especially once she got started.  She clicked and looked and clicked and looked, but stayed silent.  We were then sent into the lobby to wait and see my Dr again once he got the results.  You ready for this? They brought us back into a room and he waltzes in with a smile on his face asking, "Well how are we today?" My response was that I felt a little nervous because the U/S tech was so silent during the exam. He flips my paper over and says, "That's probably because she couldn't find any heartbeats. Let me go look at this report real quick." And walks out the door, shutting it behind him.  Leaving D & I sitting there silently staring at the wall. The reason the U/S tech was so silent was because of this-  Baby B was almost unfindable, had not grown, and Baby A had not grown much at all since the last U/S. Baby A's faint little heartbeat was also nowhere to be found.  Our babies had stopped developing and my body just hadn't figured it out yet.  After 10 minutes of my Dr. stammering things about "nature" and "it is what it is" and "This is a miscarriage, you just haven't started showing symptoms yet" and "I can do a D&C in 10 minutes, it no big deal" and "we have to do a procedure to get the tissue out" and "Let's schedule it for tomorrow" and we asked if there could be another U/S just incase she maybe missed something, "My techs don't miss anything like this. It is what it is." and "People who can't have babies are the people who can't get pregnant. Clearly you can get pregnant, so we'll have better luck next time."

I have now realized why memorizing scripture is so important.  Thursday night, laying in bed in between sobs, pieces and parts of scripture that I had memorized when I was younger kept popping up in my head. Unfortunately, several of those also were made into one mildly terrible song or another. (please don't think I hate worship music. I just don't like it when it's a song I don't like and it won't leave my head. Not helpful. Then I just get annoyed. Also, in 8th grade we learned how to sing this song and sign it at the same time... and that repetitive verse with the hand motions will not leave my stupid head.) Psalm 50:3 "Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning." Over and over and over in my head and then the song from church camp over and over.  I have read this Psalm 60 times since Thursday. I see that verses 11 & 12 say, "You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever."  I am not good at being sad. I don't do well being feelings-y. I don't mourn well. It's ugly. But I know that one day our morning will come. And one day I will be able to feel normal(ish) again. One day I'll be able to make it 10 minutes without feeling my heart break over the loss of these babies.  I also have had Romans 8:28 replaying in my head over and over “And we know that God works all things together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose”

Some things for which I am thankful right now:

I am thankful that my (soon to be former) doctor is apparently heartless and only able to deliver facts. Had be had a compassionate bone in his body, he would have said something like "I'm sorry" or "I know this isn't what you had hoped for" and I would have begun sobbing uncontrollably in the room there, instead of using the intense rage (at his inability to be human and understand that these were our babies, not just "tissue to be removed") building up inside me to keep my composure.

I am thankful that my husband is able to sit here and hold me while I cry uncontrollably at commercials and news stories and groupons and cars driving by and flowers that are wilting and burnt gluten free french toast and not fully whipped- whipped cream.

I am thankful that my mom took the day off to go with us to the hospital... and that she knew the crazy nurse I had and we got to sit in the room and laugh on the hardest day I have had in my 26.72 years.

I am thankful for every single person I came across in the hospital yesterday. All compassionate, but not babying me. Thank you.

The nurses that were assigned to room 14- Kitty & Dee. Both crazy. I love them. One day I'll write them a thank you note when I can do that without covering the whole stupid page in tears.  They were compassionate and caring, while being just silly enough to make me feel comfortable and take my mind off of what I was there to do.

I am thankful for friends who have been there before me... and I am horribly sad that anyone else has ever had to go through this. My heart breaks for each of my friends that have been through this. But I am thankful for their wisdom and their ability to tell me that it gets better. And that I'm not crazy. And that it's ok to feel my feelings.

I am thankful for my friends who have no idea what to say. "This sucks" and "I'm sorry" are about the only things that are ok. I know that it is all well intentioned and said with love, but not all things are helpful. Thank you for not calling me crazy when I say something inappropriate. I have lost the ability to interact with other humans in a normal way. That will come back. There really isn't anything good to say, but I appreciate the attempts. And I know that when people say, "It was for the best." and "It was all part of God's plan" that it is because they don't know what else to say, even though those things make me want to kind of stab them in the eyeballs with rusty olive forks.


So there you have it.
If you see me and I look like I haven't bathed in days, this may be true. If I look depressed and crazy, this may also be true. If you're pregnant and I'm giving you a hateful death stare, please ignore. It's not you, it's me.

This post has been everywhere and probably makes no sense, but I have felt for 2 days like I needed to write down my feelings. So there they are. Just feeling a little crushed right now.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18

EM